


Flashes

by way1203



Series: The Fucking Ferry Fustercluck Fiasco [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Iron Dad, Parent Tony Stark, Parental Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Spider-son, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/way1203/pseuds/way1203
Summary: It was nearly December, and he thought he'd be over it by now. He had to be. He was Spider-Man, and Spider-Man didn't have nightmares. Spider-Man wasn't afraid of what happened with Vulture.Peter attempts to hide his symptoms from himself and his mentor, and Tony finally gives his kid a proper apology.





	Flashes

**Author's Note:**

> I started drafting this right after I posted "Reckless" and I've just now finally finished it. Well, I'm not completely done, but I'm done enough that this makes a fair stopping point. I may or may not keep adding chapters to this depending on how I feel. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and bookmarks. I'm honored that you all love this series as much as I love writing it. 
> 
> Infinity War was too much so here's something to hopefully either brighten your day or make you feel. 
> 
> Finally, PTSD symptoms, like most mental health symptoms, vary from person to person. I've based Peter's symptoms off my own experiences with post-traumatic stress and anxiety.

"Sorry I took your suit. I mean you had it coming. Actually, it turns out it was the perfect sort of tough-love moment you needed—right?—to urge you on—right?—wouldn’t you think? Don’t you think?"  
  
"I guess..."  
  
"Let’s just say it was."  
  
Tony knew that wasn’t an apology, but he whipped it out before the press conference anyway. It was his half-assed attempt to address and get past the awkwardness left over from The Fucking Ferry Fustercluck Fiasco so that they could move onto the induction of Spider-Man into the Avengers. It didn’t surprise Tony when Peter never actually accepted the apology—after all, he  _did_ talk over the kid and ‘I guess’ didn’t _r_ _eally_ count as an ‘apology accepted’—but it did shock the shit out of him that the kid turned down his offer. Peter never stopped texting about the next mission and joining the Avengers. Tony expected the kid to change into the suit and launch himself on stage. Despite his disappointment, he was proud of the kid for making an adult decision. If only he’d been an adult himself and apologized to his kid like a normal mentor. He decided then that one day he’d sit down and apologize correctly. No hasty ‘ _sorry_ ’, no badgering the kid into acceptance, just a straight up  _'I’m sorry for taking your suit, Peter_ ’.  

* * *

Peter knew Mr. Stark felt bad about that ferry thing when he clapped him on the shoulder and rambled about him fixing his mistake and raising the hybrid puppies. He wished that his mentor would issue a better apology for his mistake the way Peter did for his. He knew that, if he did, it definitely wouldn’t happen in the traditional way—and he was right. Mr. Stark apologized by giving him a new suit after he turned down the press conference that he knew wasn’t actually a test. (Tony Stark was a good liar, Peter noted.)  
  
Thanks to his recklessness with the new suit, he narrowly dodged an explosive Aunt May after she caught him in trying it on. He explained that he was trying on the suit for Mr. Stark who created the suit for Spider-Man because he and Spidey had similar measurements. When that wasn’t accepted, Peter put on his best _I'm embarrassed_ face and said that there was a costume contest at school for Halloween. Dressing up as Spider-Man would help make him popular and get Flash off his back, so he borrowed the suit from Mr. Stark, who does outfit Spider-Man, and, when trying it on, saw that it does share similar measurements to his, so it’d be perfect for costume day. Aunt May bought his not-so-smooth lie and told Peter he didn’t need artificial popularity. He was popular as himself.  
  
Peter was extra careful after that. He also spent more time at the Stark Internship upstate, which meant he spent more time around the billionaire. It was nice because he had more time to learn from Mr. Stark, who showed an interest in cultivating him, and Peter had a chance to teach Mr. Stark a few things he'd learned while DIYing his suit. 

But both of them were tiptoeing, and they needed to strut, at least that’s what Tony believed. He could feel the tension of words unsaid on his part. He needed to apologize again to his son. Instead, he kept eyes on him when he went out on patrol. Peter was doing great as a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man™, and he knew he’d done the right thing by giving the kid the suit. The kid seemed to be adjusting well. At least until one evening.

Peter managed to defeat a lower-level villain and hand him over to the police, but not before the guy's giant flamethrower nearly scorched Peter. The kid wasn’t okay, and that much was evident when Tony showed up. He found Peter on the roof of a building visibly shaking, his eyes distant, his breathing way too rapid. He tried to get the kid to explain what happened, but Peter brushed it off as a momentary lapse of fear. Definitely not anything to do with Toomes and the flames on the beach, just something that shook him for a second, and he was fine. He was fine, Mr. Stark. Don't worry. 

But Tony  _did_ worry. Something was wrong with his kid, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. 

* * *

  
_I don’t have any other clothes._  
  
Those broken words played on repeat in Tony’s mind as he sat in his workshop. A few workers buzzed around outside the glass doors as they placed items in their respective rooms. The move to the new Avengers headquarters was almost complete. Tony still couldn’t believe the kid turned down his offer earlier that week. He wound up giving Peter his new suit, leaving it on his bed in a paper bag. It felt like the right thing to do after the kid saved his stuff and proved himself.  
  
But there was one big thing that didn’t feel right: the fact that the kid didn’t have any other clothes between the time Tony snatched away the old suit and gifted him with the new one.  
  
_I don’t have any other clothes._

Tony realized shortly after he dropped off the Iron-Spider suit that Peter stopped Toomes in his homemade one. His kid didn’t have any other clothes because he took away his safety net and left him with zero protection—no gear, absolutely nothing—to keep him from damn-near dying that night at the hands of Vulture. Tony didn’t know the specifics of that night, but he saw the wreckage, and he saw Toomes. He knew the kid fought hard and was damn lucky to be alive. He just wasn’t sure  _how_ lucky.  
  
_I don’t have any other clothes._

That night’s wreckage flashed to the forefront of his memory. Peter was in the middle of that mess in some pants and a hoodie. There was no way the kid should’ve been okay after that. The kid could’ve  _died_ , and all because Tony took the suit away. At least now that wouldn’t be a problem if Peter encountered a significant threat. The kid had an upgraded suit, and he wouldn’t die because of Tony.

_I don’t have any other clothes._

Tony shook his head to try to stop the kid’s voice from haunting him. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, do me a favor."

"Of course," piped F.R.I.D.A.Y. "How can I help?"  
  
"Speak to Karen and activate the PUKE On Him protocol."  
  
"Yes, sir. Give me one moment while I receive confirmation from Karen."

Tony built the Peter’s Unwell Keep an Eye On Him or PUKE On Him protocol into his new suit. The name was horrible, but the monitor would be able to help him pinpoint just what was going on with the spiderling. Tony already built in a function that automatically tracked Peter’s health and, if he wasn’t okay physically, Karen would keep watch and report the results to F.R.I.D.A.Y, who would pass the information to Iron Man. Because Tony had run-ins with PTSD, depression, and anxiety attacks, the PUKE On Him protocol would pair with the existing function and identify if Peter was struggling with his mental health—but only if Tony activated it. In hindsight, he should have made it an automatic feature like the Baby Monitor protocol. He made a note to upgrade the feature once he finished the next mark of the spider suit.

"Karen has activated the PUKE On Him protocol. I will alert you once she shares any pertinent information."   
  
"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

* * *

  
"My dad was like _‘if you get this, then it counts as your birthday present’_ and I was like _'_ _I don’t care because it's awesome'_. Man, I can’t believe I got this, especially after the Death Star. That thing was like $500!"  
  
Peter’s hands shook. He tried to ignore it. He continued adding oblong pieces to the Batmobile while eyeing the instructions between them. Ned was going on about something, but Peter found it increasingly difficult to listen. Usually putting together a LEGO creation made his anxiety go away. It was part of the reason why he and Ned took on ridiculously large sets. The more pieces they had, the more time it took to put it together, which meant more time to conquer their anxieties.  
  
This strategy wasn’t working today. Every single time Ned stuck his hand in the pile, it was too loud. Sometimes it even reminded him of the noises from his encounter with Vulture. The sound of electricity popping, gravel under his feet, the fire cracking around him. The subway ride to school was too small, and if too many people surrounded him, which was always, it took everything in his power to calm his racing heart.  
  
He bit down on the inside of his cheek and tried his best to focus on Ned’s voice instead of the plastic pieces. It’d been a month since the Vulture incident. He thought he’d be past the shaken up phase by now. Peter swallowed the growing lump in his throat and tried steadying his breathing as Ned raked his hands through the pile again.  
  
Peter set the Batmobile on the carpet of Ned’s room. He was okay. He was fine. He had to be. "I’m going to head to the bathroom for a sec." He pointed at a small pile. "Don’t touch those."   
  
Ned saluted and continued piecing together his section. Peter all but ran down the hall to the bathroom. Locking himself inside, he sat on the floor with his back against the door. He just needed to breathe for a second. Peter crawled to the toilet and flushed it, hoping that the sound would distract him from the intrusive memories. When that didn’t work, he stood and turned the water on. One glance in the mirror made his stomach drop. He’d been crying. Peter noticed his breathlessness wasn’t just from the anxiety; it was also from the sobs strangling his throat. He let out a few. He was careful not to be too loud about it. God, he was  _so tired._ He hadn’t slept well for weeks. Maybe that was why he was crying. Splashing water on his face helped a little with his splotchy appearance. Peter quickly wiped his eyes, cheeks, and hands with a paper towel and sighed. He was okay. He was Spider-Man, and Spider-Man had to be okay. Maybe Karen knew a way to help him sleep.  
  
Peter shut off the water, slapped on a smile, and returned to Ned’s room to finish the set.

* * *

  
_Something heavy covered his back and pressed his chest into the concrete. He couldn't breathe. Electricity crackled around him. The mechanical whirring of wings made Peter struggle to look up. He felt like his neck was going to detach from his spine. Vulture grinned down at him._

_"Looks like you're really a spider, after all, Pete. I guess you need a heavier shoe to squish you."_

_Drones flew around destroying more of the structure. He watched Vulture get away just as the remainder of the building collapsed and killed him._

Peter sat upright. He swallowed the acidic digested brownie inching up his throat and pulled his knees to his bowed forehead. Every night this week brought him terrors based on the night of the dance. He'd wake in a sweat, his chest tight, his hands shaking so badly he could barely bring a glass of water to his lips without spilling. One night, he nearly wet himself from the fear. The whole thing embarrassed him. He was a fifteen-year-old superhero. Nightmares were things little kids feared, but he was terrified. Everything with Liz's dad scared him in the moment and stuck with him in the weeks after. It was nearly December, and he thought he'd be over it by now. He had to be. He was Spider-Man, and Spider-Man didn't have nightmares. Spider-Man wasn't afraid of what happened with Vulture.

 _‘I'm safe_ ,’ thought Peter. ‘ _Aunt May is down the hall. I'm in my bed in Queens. Toomes is in prison.’_

He desperately needed a hug. When he was younger, Aunt May would rub his back and tell him stories until he fell asleep. He wished he could ask her to comfort him now, but he couldn't. Peter uncurled himself, reaching for his mask. He wasn't sure what else to do, so he slipped it over his head and laid back down. He faced the wall.

"Karen?"

"Peter, it's late," said Karen. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? Or should I alert Mr. Stark about a disturbance?

"I can't sleep and no. Please don't tell Mr. Stark." If Mr. Stark knew, he'd take away Spider-Man forever. Peter wrapped his arms around his chest, resting his palms on his shoulders. He rubbed his hands up and down the parts of his back that he could comfortably reach. It wasn't anything close to Aunt May's soothing touch, but it would have to do for now. "Karen...can...can you help me get back to sleep?"

"I'll do my best."

* * *

  
Tony looked over the records Karen sent to F.R.I.D.A.Y. Despite being a Regular Neighborhood Spider-Man™, Peter had several instances of an elevated heart rate during times of rest. Karen also noted an increase in the moments in which Peter talked to her. He did this often when he wasn’t saving the day, so at first glance, it would seem normal. But Peter was doing this in the middle of the night—around 2:36 in the morning to be exact. These wee hours seemed to be the time Peter pulled on his mask and initiated whispered conversations with Karen. Tony watched the last late-night chat Peter had with his AI through the kid’s eyes. The Baby Monitor protocol was definitely one of his more clever ideas. Peter shifted his gaze toward the window.  
  
"Ka–Karen? I...I can’t...I can’t sleep again. Do you know any stories?"   
  
Peter’s breathing was ragged, and his voice broke toward the end of his question. The kid’s brain activity and heart rate made it clear he was scared shitless about something. Peter sniffled. He did his best to stifle a sob, but Tony picked up the muffled gasp just the same. Peter’s eyelids eventually closed and he fell asleep with the mask half rolled over his face as the AI reached the midpoint of recounting The Princess and the Pea.

That was it. Tony needed to have a conversation with Peter. The two of them needed to have a lab day or something, because _that_? _That_ was heartbreaking.

Happy stood in the doorway. "Look, I don’t want to say—"

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'I told you so,' I’m making you Forehead of Security again."

"Tony, c’mon."

"I’m serious."

"And I’m serious, too. You two haven’t really addressed that Ferry kerfuffle, and you definitely haven’t talked about Vulture."

The billionaire made a face. "I thought I told you not to bring up the Fucking Ferry Fustercluck Fiasco, huh?"

"Boss, that wreckage...you saw it, that kid went through a lot that night. Something tells me that it includes more than just crashing a plane on a beach."

"Well, we won’t know for sure now, will we?" asked Tony bitterly. "I took his suit—the one thing that could have kept him from ending up like this." He gestured at the screen. "It's almost funny if it weren't so damn sad. You know, I called it the Baby Monitor protocol, and here it is a _literal_ baby monitor picking up his midnight cries. Instead of someone coming to console him, he’s asking an AI to read him bedtime stories so he can get over his nightmares. And why? Because I took away his safety net as a form of punishment."

Happy didn’t know what to say. Tony wound the footage back and listened to Peter’s sniffles beneath Karen’s soothing storytelling, his eyes trained on the kid’s distressed vitals. The bodyguard stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Tony bowed his head. "He’s had anxiety attacks almost daily, full-blown panic attacks once every two weeks. The kid is in distress."

"It wouldn’t surprise me if the kid has PTSD," muttered Happy.

"He does, and it’s my fault. Hap, get him here. I can’t ignore this anymore."

"What do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him I need him for a lab day. Better yet, some special overnight Stark Internship camping trip. I don't know. I just need him here like yesterday."

"I’ll get him."

"Thanks." Tony rubbed his eyes and listened to his friend’s receding footsteps. He swiped through pages of Karen’s notes on Peter. He sighed. "Fuck, kid. What have I done to you?"

* * *

  
Peter had never been so grateful to hear the dismissal bell. The day—well, the week, actually—dragged on. It seemed even longer when he considered the anguish he felt from seemingly minor things for the last five days.

On Monday, MJ started up the flame before an experiment and it took everything in his power to ignore the clenching in his stomach as he remembered the flames on the beach. Peter knew MJ knew something was wrong. He spent most of the period forcing himself to seem fine to ease her suspicions.

Tuesday, Flash called him Penis Parker every time they crossed paths while a teacher wasn’t within hearing distance. That was typical Flash immaturity, but after hearing it eight times by 11, five of which were in one class, Peter locked himself in a bathroom stall during lunch and spent twenty minutes trying not to hyperventilate. Flash’s taunts reminded him too much of hearing half the school shout Penis Parker over the phone after he nearly drowned at the hands of Vulture.

Wednesday, Ned tossed his jacket at Peter but he failed to catch it because seeing the fabric heading toward him brought the memory of his parachute engulfing him in the river to the front of his mind, and he froze.

Then there was last night when the turbines on a rooftop nearly made him aim his web-shooters in the wrong direction. Peter was thankful for the roof beneath him at the time. Otherwise, he would have sustained more than a couple of scrapes. Rolling over himself on top of the roof brought him back to all of the rolling and falling he did while trying to stop the plane. It made him sick to his stomach. Karen attempted to call Mr. Stark to inform him that Peter was vomiting on a rooftop, but the teen made her swear not to. He called it in early that night at 5. After picking at his lasagna, Peter showered, ignored his homework, and fell asleep at 9:15. Peter didn’t know what was wrong with him.

Actually, he _did_ know. He just really didn’t want it to be true. He was Spider-Man. Anxiety attacks, panic attacks, and PTSD couldn’t happen to Spider-Man. Peter suppressed a yawn. Fighting back terrifying memories all week zapped his energy. Mix that with lack of sleep, and he needed a nap...or a coma. Peter rubbed his forehead. Hopefully, the slight headache he had would go away once he got home.

The teen hurried toward the front of the building and found Happy waiting beside the Audi. He swore. No. He couldn’t do a mission today. He just couldn’t. He was so tired. Peter took a deep breath, rolled on a smile, and used half of his last bit of energy to seem excited while approaching the car. The bodyguard nodded at him.

"Hey, Happy. W-What—?"

"Tony needs you for a lab day. Well, an overnight lab day thing. He wants to work on upgrades and other Superfriends stuff."

"Oh, cool." Peter looped his thumbs under his backpack straps. Any other day, he’d jump in the car and theorize out loud about what he and Mr. Stark were going to plan. But right now he wasn’t even sure he could effectively mix the chemicals it took to make his webbing. "No offense, Happy, but I’m actually pretty tired. A-And I’ve got a headache. too."

If Peter hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve sworn Happy seemed empathetic. "He needs you now, kid. Hop in. There’s ibuprofen in the car and you can nap on the way."

* * *

  
At first, Tony didn’t realize Peter wasn’t okay. The kid always had wide eyes and a frightened expression—not unlike a bush baby. Then the longer he looked at him, the longer he realized that Peter wasn't as okay as he claimed to be.

As Peter tinkered with new webbing, he wasn't himself, and he knew Mr. Stark could see it. Peter did everything in his power to seem okay and excited about the things Mr. Stark showed him, but he couldn't shake the racing in his chest. Plus, his brain kept jumping tracks so he couldn't focus on anything. The more he tried, the more he aggravated his headache. When it became a migraine, he found himself wishing Aunt May hadn’t been so okay with the extended Stark Internship lab day.

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good."

Tony looked up from his computer. Peter had his head in his hands, his eyes fixed on the tabletop. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., scan him."

"No..no. I'm good. F.R.I.D.A.Y, don't. It's just a migraine,” muttered Peter. It wasn't very convincing, but it was all he could do. "Mr. Stark…I'm," Peter's voice broke off and he gave a small laugh. " _I'm so tired_."

He was certain that he'd only thought that, but Tony looked at him with more concern than he'd ever seen the man give. He sat beside him. "Peter, what's been going on?"

Peter shook his head. He couldn't say. He couldn't tell Mr. Stark everything because if he did, then he'd take away the suit for good and then where would he be? No. It was just better to keep it bottled in. But maybe if he let it out, _really_ let it out, it would make him feel better. No. He'd tried that a few days ago in the shower. Crying about it wasn't helpful. Crying was all he seemed to be doing these days.

"Kid, if what I think is going on is going on, I need you to tell me what you're feeling so I can help you."

"Sometimes I can still hear him threatening me at the dance—"  
  
This puzzled Tony. Bullying had been on his radar of concerns for his kid. He was somewhat scrawny despite his strength and super abilities, plus he was pretty nerdy even by nerd school standards. Plus, Peter mentioned being teased a few times, which worried him. Had that Flash kid or someone at school physically threatened him? Could it have gotten that bad and he didn't notice? “Who?" asked Tony. "Who threatened you?"  
  
"Toomes."

The billionaire blinked. That wasn't where he expected this conversation to go, but it did explain a lot. Tony bit down on the inside of his cheek.  

"He was—is—Liz's dad and I...I asked Liz to the dance because I really liked her. I _really really_ liked her, Mr. Stark. But I ruined it and...I didn't know he....Then, on the car ride, he realized I was Spider-Man. He…" Peter covered his eyes with his hands. He couldn't do this. He couldn't tell Mr. Stark everything. It hurt too much. Peter pressed his fingers on the inside corners of his eyes. Crying in front of Mr. Stark wasn't an option.

After a moment of hesitation, Tony placed a gentle hand on Peter's back. He could feel the kid trembling. "Take it easy, kid." Just what the hell happened that night? "You don't have—"

"He pulled out a gun in the car and threatened me to stay away from his business. He...I can still see his face. He didn't want me to interfere, but I didn't listen to him, Mr. Stark." Peter sobbed. "I didn't listen because I couldn't let him get away with it. And then...Mr. Stark…"

"Peter, stop."

Peter pressed on. "I stood up Liz and I followed him. I drove after him in Flash's car, and I feel terrible for his dad because I practically wrecked it. And-and-and, I...Toomes was at this building. I went in and he told me some things and then he...he drop…." Peter hiccuped and looked up at his mentor. "He made the place collapse on me, Mr. Stark. I _tried_ but there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. It happened so fast."

Tony swallowed hard and did his best to hide his emotions. He clenched his jaw, his mouth growing dry. His stomach knotted as if he'd just ridden down the first dip of a roller coaster. Peter had a building dropped on him. It all made sense now. The shit that went down with Vulture was ten times more terrifying than he'd expected. What's worse, the kid did it all by himself without a suit—all because he wanted to prove a fucking point by taking it away after the Ferry Fiasco. His decision to take the suit seemed petty now when faced with the reality that was Peter Parker's crumbling mental health. The kid's blood was so close to being on his hands. Who was he kidding? The kid's blood _was_ on his hands. Peter's trauma was very much on him. The death of Innocent Peter Parker was on Tony's hands, and his blood was as red as the Iron Man marks in the adjoining room. He'd done this to Peter. He put him on the fast track to Avengers-level trauma, and now here it was staring him in the face in the form of a fifteen-year-old kid who was now dealing with demons the size of his own. This was exactly what Tony wanted to avoid. This was his fault and now he had to live with that.

Tony watched Peter wrap his arms around himself as he cried. The kid's coping mechanism ate away at his heart. "Hey," he said. "It's okay. You don't have to keep going."

Peter brought his sleeves over his hands. "Mr. Stark…I couldn't breathe. I tried yelling for help but nobody came. I managed to pull myself out. It hurt so _bad_ , Mr. Stark. I thought that was the worst he could throw at me, but then...I stopped the plane."

"Oh, _Peter."_  

"He kicked my ass, Mr. Stark. He beat me. He stuck his talons in my back and rammed me into the sand a few times. He...he punched me, and he dropped me. I ran out of webbing." Peter worked himself up. He tried to ease his breathing but it seemed to come faster. "I'm stupid for not bringing more. But I saved him. Then before...I was on the back of your plane? And...and-and-and it got hard...it got hard to breathe, you know...and it was so high. I was sc....I almost blew into the plane turbine. The plane crashed. I tied him up and left a note. I couldn’t...I waited until I saw Happy, and I left. I was on the coaster—" Peter gasped. It was getting harder to breathe. "At least I can heal fast. I learned the hard way that night. I think...I-I-I dislocated my shoulder or something and-and managed to pop it back...I think? I think...I hurt my wrist too...I tried using my web shooters...and they were out and just dragging my arm up and bending my wrist hurt a lot...it all hurt...Mr. Stark...it hurt and...I was fine the next afternoon…Mr. Stark—"  
  
"Stop." Tony held up his hand. "Fuck, kid. Stop. _Breathe_. Look at me, son.” The last word came out before Tony could stop it. Peter stared at him and the billionaire couldn’t blame him. The kid continued hyperventilating but managed to keep his eyes on Tony as he spoke. “There you go. Now you’re gonna breathe. Okay? It’s easy enough, right? We’re going to breathe. Just me and you, kid.”  
  
Peter’s face crumbled. _Just me and you_. Aunt May said that all the time after Uncle Ben died. And, wait. Had Mr. Stark really just called him ‘son’? Peter swallowed a sob. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Stark that he saw him as a father figure. He couldn’t _begin_ to count about all the times he almost slipped and called Mr. Stark ‘dad’. Peter tried to take a deep breath but it turned out shallow. He tried again.

"That's it. Breathe, Peter."

He _was_ breathing—just maybe not as calmly as he should. A few tears slipped down his cheeks. Peter wiped his face with the back of his hand. He shouldn't be crying in front of Mr. Stark. It was bad enough he was having an anxiety attack or something. He shouldn't be crying, too. In his overthinking, Peter managed to work himself up even further.

"Peter, look at me," said Tony. "You've gotta breathe, kid. Let's breathe in.....and out……"

When Peter tried but struggled to match Mr. Stark's rhythm, he felt himself panic. "I’m sorry, dad." His face drained when he realized what he said. It was worse than calling a teacher ‘mom’. He called Mr. Stark 'dad' to his face in a semi-public place. "I shouldn't...be...crying."

"Hey, it’s okay," said Tony. He did his best to ignore what Peter had just called him, and the swell of warmth that came with it. He couldn't blame the kid for letting it slip. After all, he started it by calling the kid 'son'. “You can cry if you need to. I know you tried to hide it from me that night. Look, I know I was being a dick, but you didn't have to hide your tears."   
  
Peter’s eyes grew wider at his comment. He saw even though he tried so hard to hide it. _Fuck_.  
  
"Yeah, I saw that. I’m not gonna take Spider-Man from you if you shed a few tears. It’s okay to cry." 

"No, it’s not," sobbed the teen.  
  
"Yes, it is. It's okay, son." There it was again. Tony swallowed and clenched his jaw. That was it. He couldn’t keep doing this anymore. Playing the distanced mentor to Peter was killing him. Seeing the kid like this, his walls down, having a breakdown made Tony want to protect him. All he wanted to do was call him 'son' and be Tony. Not Mr. Stark, just Tony, just Peter Parker’s stand-in dad. He lost all of his defenses. “I’m not going anywhere, Peter. I've got you. It's going to be okay. Now, listen to me. I need you to breathe. Can you do that?"  
  
Peter shook his head. “I’m sorry...Mr. Stark."  
  
"No, _I’m_ sorry." Peter blinked up at him and Tony sniffed to steel himself. “You heard me, I’m not going to say it again. You did a lot for me that night, but you nearly died. That’s on me. I’m the one who took your suit away. That’s on me that you had to fight without protection. I won’t do that to you again, kid."

"It's okay, Mr. Stark. I-I-I deserved it. I—"

"You did not deserve to deal with what you dealt with on homecoming night. What you endured would be traumatic and horrifying for me. You made a simple mistake at the ferry. You did not deserve to be left high and dry. You did not deserve to damn-near die at the hands of Toomes. You're a kid doing his best to help other people. You don't deserve anything other than the support of Aunt May, and me..and I failed to support you, Peter. I screwed up taking your suit away, and I'm sorry." Tony paused and cleared his throat. He hadn't anticipated getting this emotional with the kid, but he had to. His kid needed him. "I'm sorry you went through that. Peter, I'm sorry you had to go through that alone because of my mistake. And please...I'm Tony. We're past Mr. Stark and the formalities."

That was enough to make Peter's breathing ease. He took his first full breath in several minutes and felt less lightheaded. He took another breath to test the waters. It seemed to come out better still despite the fact that his tears didn't have an off switch. "That would make a good band name," whispered Peter with a watery smile.

"Yeah, kid. It would. How are you feeling?"

"Not great."

"Better?"

"I don't know….I think." Peter ran his sleeve over his eyes. "I wish I'd stop crying."

"You need to cry, kid. From what I can tell, you've been holding it in for a while. It's not good to back yourself up like that." Tony brought his arm up to wrap around his shoulder causing Peter to flinch. "I'm sorry. I was just going to hug you. But since you're uncomfortable—" Peter all but threw himself into Tony's arms as he burrowed against his mentor's chest and stomach. Tony rested a hand on the back of Peter's head and rubbed his shoulders with the other. "Hey, it's okay. I've got you, Peter."

"I've messed up a lot…" he sniffed. "I messed up school...Liz...I—"

"Kid, it's okay. We'll figure it all out. I promise. Right now, I just need you to focus on breathing." Tony listened to his kid mutter something incoherent between the tears. The sound broke his heart. He held onto Peter. "I know, kid. I know. You just let it out and breathe. We'll figure things out when you're calm, okay?"   

The teen nodded. Tony rested his chin on Peter's head and listened to the spiderling finally wind down. Tomorrow, there would be time to discuss just how exactly the kid messed up with school, even though he had already had an inkling, and there'd be time to talk about the fact that they called each other dad and son. Tony would address Peter's stress levels, his panic attacks, and anxiety later on when the kid wasn't so raw. For now, he'd be the support the kid needed.

Peter lifted his head. "Mr. Stark, I'm sorry for calling you 'dad'."

The fact that Peter even felt like that was something he had to keep apologizing for hurt Tony at his core. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder with a sigh. "Kid, I don't mind. I'm just honored you see me that way after, you know, everything. I'm glad I've become that person to you because...oh, what the hell. Since I almost lost you, I might as well say it. You've become that person to me. You...you know, you’re the closest thing I’ll have to a son, Peter." 

"Is that why you call me kid all the time?" 

"Something like that." In reality, calling Peter kid and other nicknames recently morphed into his way of stopping himself from accidentally calling Peter or Spider-Man son in public since he found himself growing more attached. But Peter didn’t need to know that right now. Tony recovered quickly and sniffed. "Now, you can't just walk around calling me dad instead of Tony, cause that might raise some flags and put you in danger if the wrong person hears. But if you slip up, know that it won't bother me."  

Peter pulled back to look at his mentor. Relief flooded him as well as exhaustion. "Thanks...Tony...you know, for everything."

"You're welcome, kid. Let's say we get you something to eat? You're a growing boy, I know you're probably starving after all of that."

"A little."

"C'mon. I'll have Hap pick us up some pizza."

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry I used *that line* but ughh it fit perfectly. I’m sorry for extra feels!


End file.
